Meet Me in the Drift
by Tokyo'sFinest
Summary: "Why?" the word slid from his lips unbidden, softly slicing through the silence between them, the quiet of the mountain around them.


He came to the mountain when the city slept, as much as it ever did. Drifting the winding road, all sweeping bends and hairpin turns and bold corners, while the rest of the population drifted in and out of dreams, in and out of consciousness. Occasionally, he would encounter another driver, if he arrived early in the evening, if he already knew that sleep wouldn't come that night.

By 1 or 2 in the morning, his headlights alone illuminated the curves of the mountain as he ascended and descended and ascended again, until the sky grew pale in the east, and he returned to his garage as the streets of Tokyo awakened.

~ 

The drift races were always high-octane affairs. Music throbbing, engines growling, screeching tires. Hot women, even hotter cars; curves, colors, energy, adrenaline.

Han let it crash into him, over him, breaking like a wave as he stepped out of his Veilside RX-7. A slight gasp, no more than a whisper of an inhale, and he was home.

"Han! Sean's racing in a few minutes, you gonna meet us up top?" Twinkie hollered at him from across the way, where Reiko and Earl are bent over the engine of Sean's Evo, doing a last minute system check. Sean was leaning against the passenger side door, arm casually thrown around his girlfriend, Neela.

"That depends on the kid. Is he going to make it worth my time to get up there?" Han drawled back with a hint of a smirk, popping a candy into his mouth as Twinkie rolled his eyes and Sean spluttered for a moment.

"C'mon, y'all know I can handle anything they got!" Sean threw back at him.

"I seem to recall a certain Silva that suffered a terrible fate at your hand awhile back – you seemed pretty confident that you could handle things that night too."

Twinkie sniggered at Sean's annoyed expression while the others laughed.

"That was months ago, Han! I can drift for real now; Morimoto didn't even know what hit him."

Han merely nodded, munching on another candy, lips twitching.

"Enough, enough, enough. Sean, man, you gotta get to the line; you're starting in a few minutes. Reiko, Earl, are you guys done with the engine?" Twinkie asked, bouncing around the Evo, too hyped up to stand still.

"Everything looks good. Don't go too hard on the other guy," Reiko teased as she shut her laptop and Earl dropped the hood.

"Oh, y'all know I will," Sean confidently smirked back as he strolled around the car and slid into the driver's seat. "Get Han upstairs!" he called out the window as he pulled up to the starting line.

The crowd drew close to the two cars, laughing in excitement and chattering away in Japanese as a path was cleared through the multilevel parking garage to the top. The two racers revved their engines, eyeing each other and gripping their wheels. Three quick words – redī, setto, gō – and they were off, tires squealing as the cars drifted around the first turn.

The crowd made a mad dash for the elevator and stairwells; Han could hear Twinkie's whooping over the racer-chasers' giggling. Finishing the last of the candy, he crumpled the bag and threw it in the trash as he strolled to the elevator, noting with amusement that he was once again one of the stragglers.

Oh, well. He'd still arrive before the first car cleared the final spiraling ramp to the rooftop parking level.

When the elevator doors slid open, he made his way to Takashi's 350Z, giving his business partner a slight nod of acknowledgement. The stiffness in the returning inclination of head and trace of a sneer were a testament to the bad blood lingering between them; the consequences of Neela's decision to dump Takashi in favor of Sean reached far beyond whom she would be going home with.

Han believed that Takashi had cared for the girl in his own way, despite his controlling nature and violent temper. The identity of who she moved on to – Sean Boswell, the _gaijin_ – only served as salt in the wound. Combined with Sean trouncing Morimoto just weeks before, Han supposed that they were lucky that things went as well as they did. Some heated words, a few fistfights, and a little bit of testosterone-fueled racing, and the situation diffused into a hazy tension between all factions. Han knew that Takashi still harbored anger towards him; Sean was his driver, after all. He remained rigidly aloof, for the most part, in their business dealings and interactions at the drifting scene; he represented the Yakuza, after all.

Finally reaching the edge of the crowd and Takashi's crew, Han slowed his steps, returning the greetings of acquaintances as women flocked about him. Takashi might be known as the Drift King, but everyone knew who the real DK was, even if they had never seen him race. There were rumors, of course, but there were never enough facts to confirm or deny them.

He had not raced since the night he had raced a plane down a dark runway in London; a runway that grew blindingly bright, flames licking up into the sky; a runway that dead-ended in a graveyard half-way around the world.

He had drifted the mountain with Takashi and done a few test drives for the Yakuza when he had first arrived in Tokyo, just enough to show that he was the best, to gain the respect he needed to retain as much independence as he could from them whilst on their turf. Whatever snippets of information about those test runs had leaked through the Yakuza ranks and into the underground drift scene had earned him a great deal of reverence; he was a man shrouded in mystery, and he preferred it that way. People only saw what they wanted to; no one here would ever know about the ghosts of his past.

Han was broken out of his thoughts by the wild cheering of the crowd. With a screeching of tires, Sean spun onto the top level of the parking garage on smoking tires, the clear victor. He smirked to himself as he watched the kid take in the attention of his fans before coming over.

"Glad to see you made it up here, old man," Sean told him with a grin.

Han cocked an eyebrow at the 'old man' dig, but left it alone. "Glad to see that I won't need to be completely rebuilding your car, this time around."

Sean just groaned and rolled his eyes, "Can't y'all just forget that ever happened?"

"You destroyed Mona, man – not a chance," Twinkie informed him, before turning to Han. "Party at the club tonight? Celebrate the win?"

"Sure. Spread the word and head over. I'll let them know that you're coming."

"Yes!" Twinkie pumped his fist before moving through the crowds. The fast-talking teen reminded him of Rome at times, with his enthusiasm and appreciation for women.

Sean laughed at his friend's antics, then looked to Han. "I'm gonna grab Neela and head over, man. See you there?"

"Yeah, I'll be there shortly," Han told him, already turning to head back down to his car.

He knew that his presence would be expected to be at the after-race parties, no matter if he wanted to be there or not. He would be expected stroll in like he owned the place - which in this instance, he did - drink in hand, models and racer chasers hanging off him. The life of the quintessential playboy that everyone assumed he was; who was he to deny what they wanted to see?

It was a small price to pay to keep them from looking any closer.

~ 

An hour later, he entered the club, clapping the bouncer on the back as he walked through the door. The dimly light room was hazy with cigarette smoke that made him long for just one inhale, one deep lungful. Bodies danced where there was room; small tables littered the edges of the room, and the bar was busy. He stayed just long enough to throw back a drink and chat with a few regulars before making his way through the crowd and slipping through an unassuming side door in the back.

~ 

Midnight found him on a brightly lit dance floor, lights flashing, music pumping. Models, eager for fun after days spent posing, swayed around him, hair swirling, eyes shining as they laughed at the sweet nothings he whispered in their ears. He lost count of the lips that pressed to his, none of them quite right…he ordered another drink and allowed them to pull him closer.

~ 

He was in the lounge above the garage, a model under each arm, a half-empty bottle of champagne on the table in front of them. His crew was dispersed amongst the couches and tables, sipping drinks with the models that they had invited back with them. His eyes closed as one pressed kisses up his neck and along his jaw, the other bringing his lips to hers, fingers winding through his hair…

~ 

Hours later, he slipped out of his room into a dark hallway, careful to not wake the woman asleep in his bed. He shrugged into his jacket as the door closed with a soft _snick_ behind him, making his way downstairs.

Moments later, an engine purred to life before pulling into the night. The clock on the dash read 2:57AM.

~ 

He drove to the mountain, drifting the passes alone until, suddenly, he wasn't.

That was the first night he saw her.

* * *

A/N: First chapter is up. Not sure when Chapter 2 will be posted yet. Thank you to Samy098 and meyinet for your lovely reviews.


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